


Know Your Place

by Croik



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Croik/pseuds/Croik
Summary: Talbot is used to Marlowe asking a lot of him, but taming Rafe Adler is a bit more than even he bargained for.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delina/gifts).



> Written as a birthday gift for my buddy Del!

Talbot hadn't thought that any words out of Marlowe's mouth could surprise him ever again, not after how long he'd been at her beck and call, how many outrageous and challenging requests she'd made of him. But he was wrong, and he forgot decorum entirely as he stared blankly back at her. "Are you serious?"

Marlowe chided him with a narrowing of her eyes. "Am I ever not?" she replied, handing him her champagne flute. "Fetch him for me. I'll be waiting in the library." And with that she glided from the room.

Talbot turned to face the remaining guests. Normally he excelled at the necessary evil known as social niceties – when maintaining an international criminal enterprise, satisfied patrons were a must. The current lot was perfectly amenable to his overtures and he would have been happy to guide any one of them to Marlowe's "library." Except _that one_. What she even saw in the man Talbot had no idea, but orders were orders. He downed the rest of the champagne and grabbed a brandy off the nearest waiter on his way over.

Rafe Adler was not the richest of the possible donors indulging in the free food and alcohol. He was not the most well-connected and he was certainly not the cleverest. That he was the youngest in attendance might have been his only mark of distinction. Maybe that was what had drawn Marlowe's interest, Talbot thought as he made his approach. Perhaps it wasn't a courtship that she had in mind, but a reminder of the hierarchy. Talbot found himself emboldened by the possibility and had to fake significantly less geniality as he tapped Rafe's shoulder.

"Mr. Adler," he greeted, extending his hand. "Talbot. I don't believe we've been introduced."

Rafe looked him over, eyelids heavy with the smug superiority that was more than likely coded into his DNA. "No, I don't think so," he replied, unconcerned and at least marginally inebriated. "You're Marlowe's man, isn't that right? Pleasure to meet you."

He clasped Talbot's hand; his grip was mostly limp, almost insulting, but that only made Talbot's return handshake firmer. The prospect of taming him for his lady's entertainment was already growing much more enticing. "The pleasure's mine," he said, stroking Rafe's pinky with his; discreet, out of sight, unmistakable. He felt Rafe's hand tighten just before letting him go.

Rafe was not difficult to fetch.

Another drink and a few innuendos later and Talbot had Rafe up against the wall outside the library. Rafe was even more agreeable than expected, full of lazy confidence as he squeezed Talbot's thigh between his own. Maybe he was hoping his endowments would impress, and it would be a lie to say he didn't succeed at least somewhat. With heaps of his father's money and anatomy like that, he was probably used to getting everything he wanted. Talbot leaned bodily into him, murmuring consolations against his hungry mouth as if to say, _Too bad you won't be using this prick you're so proud of._

By the time they made it _into_ the library, Talbot was half hard himself, spurred more by the thought of what was to follow than any effort of his partner. He dragged Rafe to a heavy oak desk at the room's center and pushed him up against it. The edge was at the perfect height to be dreadfully uncomfortable, so much so that Talbot sometimes wondered if it was by design. Without breaking their ravenous kiss, he took Rafe firmly by the hips intending to lift him onto it.

Rafe jerked in his grip, both hands snapping to the desk to help keep his feet on the floor. He must have sensed that if he gave up any ground Talbot was sure to have him on his back. Talbot let him keep his leverage for the moment, instead busying his fingers with Rafe's necktie and shirt buttons while they sucked and gnawed at each other's lips. Rafe had to relinquish his grip of the desk in order to shed his jacket, and in that instant Talbot resumed his original plan, gripping Rafe's ass possessively. It was time he learned his place.

"Whoa—fuck—" Rafe said abruptly, shoving hard to get some space between them. Talbot was startled—he didn't expect someone so easy to catch would be so picky—until he realized that Rafe was staring past him. He turned his head just enough to catch their audience in the corner of his eye.

Marlowe was seated on a lounge up against the nearest wall, easily reclined but eyes bright and attentive. She looked pleased, and the subtle curl of her lip still gave Talbot goosebumps after all this time.

"You got here faster than I expected," she said. "Well done."

Talbot swelled with the compliment, and it wasn't until Rafe squirmed that he realized he was still kneading his ass. "How would you like him?" he asked, greatly enjoying the waves of confusion emanating from their guest.

"Go on." Marlowe rested her chin on the curl of her knuckles. "Just as you were."

Talbot hefted Rafe onto the desk. It had been a while since he he'd had the chance to display some strength, and knowing that Marlowe was watching so closely made him eager to put on good show for her. He expected Rafe to struggle some more and was instead met with a laugh.

"Okay, I get it," said Rafe, loosening Talbot's tie and tossing it aside. "I get it."

He drew them into another heavy kiss. Talbot was honestly a bit disappointed; he enjoyed having to spell it out for their slower initiates. But he made the most of it, allowing Rafe to help him out of his suit jacket, turning them just enough to ensure Marlowe had a good view. He groped along Rafe's thighs, urging them further apart and digging in with his thumbs. The kid was fit, that much was to be applauded, and he found himself thinking ahead towards the best positions to make full use of that athleticism and aesthetic appeal.

The slip in focus cost him. Rafe seized upon that momentary distraction, grabbing a fistful of Talbot's hair and yanking his head back. The wrench of his neck was too familiar, as was the demanding kiss that followed, and he couldn't help himself—he moaned against Rafe's crushing lips, startled and aroused. It was very nearly Pavlovian. He tried to regain his composure as quickly as possible, but Rafe knew very well how to exploit a weakness. Gripping Talbot's scalp with both hands, he used the greater height afforded him by the desk and leaned into him, taking control.

Despite his best efforts, Talbot wilted—only for a moment, but enough. Marlowe would be sure to see the telltale quiver in his knees. It might not have troubled him if not for it being _Rafe Adler_ , corporate weasel, pulling his strings. He retaliated. Restraint would have been preferable, but Talbot forewent dignity and instead pushed Rafe hard, laying him out on his back with such force that a pair of books rattled off the desk and Rafe winced loudly.

"Not too rough," Marlowe scolded. "He's our guest, after all."

Her admonishment flooded heat up Talbot's neck into his ears. He licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am."

He leaned forward, spreading Rafe's shirt open, but much more gently. Marlowe's quiet hum of approval was always welcome, and it seemed to do Rafe some good as well; he arched his back, knees spread and toes pointed as if exceedingly aware of how his physique must have looked to her. As much as Talbot wanted to rakes his nails down the unblemished span of skin, he resisted, settling with a slow, strong massage of Rafe's chest and abdomen. It earned him a heavy sigh from Rafe, but more importantly, another quiet hum from his mistress.

Did she want him to be tender? Talbot went back to stroking and squeezing Rafe's thighs as he bent down, teasing each sensitive nipple hard with his tongue. Their paced had slowed considerably and he was baffled by the sudden thought that maybe Marlowe intended for him to make intimate love to the man. Perhaps the thrill came from the novelty of it. Perhaps he was meant to lull Rafe to security and _then_ deliver the proper reinforcement he deserved. A glance at her face told him nothing, so he continued as he was and reached for Rafe's belt.

Rafe braced his heels to Talbot's hips. It didn't set off any warning bells at first, but then he gripped the desk and kicked, hard, catching Talbot off guard and throwing him to the floor. The desk shifted and groaned with the force, though not enough to cover the sound of Marlowe's intake of breath. Having landed flat on his arse like a buffoon, Talbot was too embarrassed to look at her and instead fixed his red-faced irritation on Rafe. "What in the hell—"

"Now, now. Mind your manners." Rafe hauled himself upright and planted his feet firmly on the ground as he unfastened his pants. "Like the woman said, I'm your _guest_ , after all."

Talbot bristled. "Mind _your_ manners," he snapped, getting to one knee. "Do you know who you're speaking to?"

He started to get up, but then Rafe lunged, planting the arch of his foot into crook of Talbot's groin to keep him from standing. "Yes, I do," Rafe drawled. He drew his cock free and gave it a few strokes to show off. "The same good ol' boy who's going to suck this dick for me."

Talbot was so furious he might have hissed. He tried to keep his eyes defiantly on Rafe's face, but his erection was _right there_ , flushed and uncut, and Rafe was leaning in. He shivered with indecision and didn't know how to act. Was he meant to resume their sparring, fight back? Was he meant to submit, grudgingly or meekly? For once he had no idea, and though he risked a look to Marlowe, again her face betrayed no indication of her intentions for him. She was watching them with the same sultry intensity as always, utterly directionless.

Rafe butted his cock up against Talbot's lips impatiently. "Come on, now, I know you know this part," he taunted, and he was lucky he didn't get teeth. "Open wide."

Talbot seethed, but he couldn't stall any longer; he opened his mouth. With eyes still upturned and hatefully locked on Rafe's smug face, he parted his lips, let his jaw relax, welcoming Rafe across his tongue and down his throat. As familiar as he was with the act, Rafe's cock was just as impressive as he'd noted earlier, and it took some concentration to keep his eyes from watering. He had no intention of letting Rafe see him struggle.

"Mmmn, yes," Rafe purred as he began to rock. "That's not bad at all."

He twisted his fingers in Talbot's hair. The tension against his scalp might have had Talbot moaning again if not for the cock in the way. Without any other choice he surrendered to Rafe's throat-fucking, gulping him down like a veteran. It was humiliating, and knowing that Marlowe was watching them so closely even more so, which only heightened his arousal. Ashamed but resigned, he lowered one hand between his thighs.

" _Talbot_ ," said Marlowe coldly, and immediately he drew his hand back, his skin electric.

Rafe leaned back, letting his cock slip free. With one hand still tangled in Talbot's hair he grabbed him by his shirt collar and all but dragged him back to the desk. Talbot grunted as he was bent roughly over it, the air forced from his lungs and the wood digging into his hips. He glared at Rafe over his shoulder. " _Must_ you be so impatient?" he snapped.

Rafe grinned at him, which was already infuriating, and then reached up between Talbot's legs to give his cock and firm squeeze. Talbot had to bite his lip to keep from making a sound. "Hm, I dunno," said Rafe, fondling him aggressively through his slacks. "Seems to me you're hungrier for this than I am."

Talbot had no reply, grinding his teeth as Rafe unfastened his belt. It would not have been difficult to fight back, get Rafe pinned and punish him for his brash egoism, and a good part of him was eager to prove it. Not much of a victory to boast over, perhaps, but the thought of ravishing the young man for his mistress's pleasure gave him goosebumps. He had strength in him aching to be displayed, and even as Rafe yanked his pants down, his muscles coiled in tight, ready to take him to action.

"Well?" said Rafe, and it took Talbot a moment to realize he wasn't the one being spoken to. "Should I go easy on him?"

Marlowe's eyes narrowed in catlike amusement. "No."

Talbot abandoned all thoughts of resistance, even pride, just in time for Rafe's long cock thrusting into him. He knew how best to position himself, how to relax and to breathe, and Rafe's girth was nothing he hadn't handled in the past, but preparation didn't stop him from whimpering as he was stretched and filled. He gripped the edge of the desk with both hands and pressed his sweating forward to its polished surface. They were well-practiced partners, him and that bloody uncomfortable desk. Soon he had his leverage and his composure, and was ready to take the fucking his mistress expected of him.

"That was...a delightful little noise...you just made," Rafe panted as he gripped Talbot's hips and rocked into him. "Do it again."

Talbot clenched his teeth together, determined that no sound of any kind would slip past them again, but then a subtle shift of fabric drew his attention: Marlowe had slipped her hand beneath the slit in her dress. His breath caught, and he forgot all about Rafe behind him—until another heavy thrust bruised his hips against the oak. He was caught off guard and despite his efforts another embarrassingly earnest whine pitched from his throat. The sound of his own voice made him tense. Had he been in a private setting with his mistress, she would have scolded him having so little control, and he expected to be punished. But Rafe's fingers winding roughly in his hair were more reward than admonishment, and even Marlowe's piercing expression was tinged with a blush.

So that was the game. Talbot relinquished all pretentions of pride and whimpered openly as Rafe continued to fuck him in faster, heavier strokes. Burning with humiliation he arched his back, spread his knees, welcomed every inch of the pounding cock. The desk creaked and groaned beneath him, but above it—not to mention the slap of skin—he could just barely make out Marlowe's tiny, breathy sounds of pleasure. They heated him like nothing else and he burned, quaking with need. If his shame was her aphrodisiac, he was more than happy to oblige. He keened and begged, and Rafe played his part whole-heartedly, fucking Talbot raw until the euphoria of his service overwhelmed him, and he drew tight around Rafe's cock in a hard, shuddering climax.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Rafe groaned. He wasn't finished yet, and he gave Talbot a few more swift hits. "You little _slut_." He slapped Talbot hard across the ass, which earned him a yelp and another tightening of muscles that brought him to release. Had he any manners, he would have pulled out, and Talbot grimaced hatefully as he instead screwed in fully until spent. At last stepped he back, panting and chuckling to himself.

Talbot's knees wobbled, but he gripped the desk hard, depending on what strength he had left in his elbows to keep from collapsing. Deep breaths slowly brought him back to his composure, and as he straightened up, he could hear Marlowe doing the same.

Rafe pushed his hair back and turned toward her, all grins and bravado. "So?" he crowed. "Does this mean—"

"Get out," said Marlowe.

Rafe was taken aback, and he laughed awkwardly. "Now come on, you don't have to be like—"

"Get out," Marlowe repeated, cold and absolute as if she hadn't just been a willing audience to their fornicating moments ago. As if her ears weren't still red, her pupils dilated. She folded her arms impatiently. "Now."

The look of affronted confusion that crossed Rafe's face made everything Talbot had endured worthwhile. "Ookaay...." said Rafe, struggling after a reaction to match his pride as he drew his pants up and retrieved his jacket. He looked like he was readying himself to say more, but Marlowe deliberately turned her back to him. With mounting irritation he shot each of them a look, rolled his eyes, and left.

Talbot savored some vindication, which deflated once it was his turn to face his mistress. Still relying on the desk beneath his palms, he gathered himself up as best he could. Marlowe was watching him. She didn't look cross or disappointed, she may have even been...pleased. She draped his suit jacket over the desk and then plucked Talbot's handkerchief from it.

"I'm going back to our guests," she said, wiping Talbot's mouth for him. "They'll have noticed our absence by now. I'll at least have to make one more appearance before sending them away."

Talbot held still as she tidied him up; vague, almost useless gestures that nonetheless held him transfixed. Only once she had finished, tucking his handkerchief back into his jacket, did he reply. "Yes, of course. But I don't think I—"

"I want _you_ to retire for the night," Marlowe interrupted. "I'll have an excuse for you." She smiled slightly and stroked his jaw with the backs of her fingers. "Draw a bath. I'll be up to join you soon."

Talbot shivered, and all the energy he thought he'd spent swiftly returned. He smiled faintly against her knuckles. "Yes, ma'am."

"There's a good man," Marlowe said fondly, and with a hint of a smirk she smoothed her dress out and strode gracefully from the room.

Once she had left, Talbot allowed himself to falter. He sank to his knees so he could catch his breath and stretch his back. As much as he was eager to be rid of the imprints of his ill-mannered, temporary lover, he had to admit...it hadn't been all bad. Not if Marlowe was about to award him for his efforts.

_Next time, I won't be so complacent_ , he promised himself as he slipped back into his trousers for his journey upstairs. _Maybe then I can surprise even her_. But for the time being he was well satisfied with Marlowe's promise to make the most of the rest of their evening, and he hurried onward to prepare for her.


End file.
